


Earned It

by Preach



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: BDSM, Caning, Complete, Cousin Incest, Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, Spanking, Throne Room Discipline, Throne Sex, 中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:08:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Preach/pseuds/Preach
Summary: "N'Jadaka," T'Challa said, his rich voice low and intense as he yanked Erik towards him. "You have been antagonizing me all day."





	Earned It

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [爱拼才会赢](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14523618) by [annebaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/annebaby/pseuds/annebaby)



The door slammed shut with a heavy thud, leaving T'Challa and Erik alone in the throne room. 

T'Challa was on Erik in an instant, fisting his hands into the collar of Erik's shirt. "N'Jadaka," T'Challa said, his rich voice low and intense as he yanked Erik towards him. "You have been antagonizing me all day." 

_N'Jadaka._ T'Challa rarely called him by his formal Wakandan name, unless Erik was _really_ in trouble.

Erik felt a cheeky smirk spread across his face. "You gonna make me regret it?" he said. 

In response, T'Challa gripped him by the scruff of the neck, forcing Erik down so that he was bending over the arm of the throne, ass in the air. 

"You are _really_ going to regret this," T'Challa informed Erik from behind him, voice filled with dark promise. 

Excitement flared in Erik's chest. He grinned and spread his legs apart, arching his back up to display his ass at its best angle. Erik's fingers gripped onto the seat of the throne for balance.

"Oh no, don't punish me, my king," Erik said teasingly. 

Hands gripped the waistband of Erik's pants, yanking them downwards with one swift motion. The feeling of the pleasantly cool air against his exposed ass made Erik squirm a little, and there was a short intake of breath from T'Challa at the sight. 

"Step out of them," T'Challa ordered, and Erik complied. 

"I won't go easy on you today," T'Challa warned Erik. "If at any time you truly wish me to stop - "

"Safeword, I _know_. Get to it," Erik said impatiently. 

Without warning, T'Challa smacked a hand down hard on Erik's ass, making his cheeks bounce. Even though he was expecting the slap, Erik couldn't help but gasp at the sting. "Ow!" 

Two more slaps landed in quick succession, one on each cheek, followed by T'Challa's warm hands patting and soothing the spots that he had just spanked.

Erik sighed in bliss as he closed his eyes, not bothering to count each subsequent smack. He could tell that T'Challa was holding himself back. With his enhanced strength, T'Challa could do a lot of damage to Erik if he really wanted. But T'Challa was careful and controlled, and each slap against Erik's ass was just this side of painful, hard enough to sting but not too hard to cause unpleasant hurt. Erik could feel his cock hardening with each spank and caress, and he rubbed himself against the armrest of the throne, trying to get more friction. It didn't really work. 

Just when the sting and the heat in his ass was building up to a delicious crescendo, T'Challa stopped. Erik could hear his footsteps moving further away.

"That's all?" Erik complained, twisting his head around to whine at T'Challa properly. "I ain't regrettin' it yet. I'm not sorry. You didn't even spank me that hard - _Shit!"_  

Erik's voice cut off abruptly as he saw that T'Challa was approaching him with a rattan cane in his hands. In horror, Erik immediately tried to straighten up, but T'Challa was right behind him again, forcing him down over the arm of the throne with his enhanced strength. 

"T'Challa! No, stop! Wait!" Erik protested, trying and failing to twist away.

He hated the cane. Being spanked by T'Challa was one thing, but being caned was quite another. Spanking was actually _fun_ \- Erik really enjoyed the feeling of T'Challa's large, warm hands cupping his ass, rubbing and soothing away the pain after each hard smack. But the cane was totally different. It bit deeply into his skin on each stroke, hard and unforgiving, leaving horrible raised welts in its wake that wouldn't heal for at least several days. Even the sound of the cane whistling through the air and cracking down on him, loud as a gunshot, scared Erik. T'Challa only took out the cane when he really meant business. When he wanted Erik to _hurt._

Erik's stomach dropped. 

"Wait wait wait, where the fuck did that even come from?" Erik asked incredulously. "I thought you were just gonna spank me!" 

"I sent Okoye to our room earlier to fetch the cane for me. She was very eager to comply when I told her that I wanted to discipline you."

Erik felt the blood drain from his face in horror, even as sheer humiliation made the rest of his body burn hot. "Oh god. You didn't."

"Of course I did. Do you really think that I just keep a cane lying around the throne room?" 

"Fuck!" Erik swore, his hands clenching into fists. He wanted to curl up on the floor and die. He would never be able to look Okoye in the eye again.

"Language," T'Challa warned, tapping Erik's calves with the tip of the cane.

Erik shuddered at the sensation of the cane against the back of his legs. Just light taps for now, but he knew from past (horrible) experience the excruciating pain which the cane held in store for him later. Erik didn't dare to shy away for fear of more severe punishment, but he also wasn't completely able to suppress his sheer outrage at T'Challa's reprimand.

_"Language?_ What the fuck do you mean? I'm a grown ass man! I can swear as much as I fucking like!" Erik protested. 

"Do you really want to make things worse for yourself?" T'Challa asked, his voice low and dangerous.

The implied dark threat in T'Challa's words was enough to make Erik waver immediately, changing from defiant protests to pleas for mercy. "No no no, you're right, I won't swear if you don't want me to, please, T'Challa, my king, not too hard, don't cane me too hard, just - just a few strokes is enough, please, I'm sorry, T'Challa - " 

"I haven't even started yet, and you're already begging," T'Challa cut in, amused. Erik didn't turn his head back to look, but he knew without a doubt that T'Challa was smirking at him, that evil motherfucker. "Now. Spread your legs and arch your back, N'Jadaka. And don't clench your cheeks. You know what will happen to you if you do." 

Erik whimpered as he obeyed, arching his back up and splaying his legs to present his ass for the cane. He buried his head in his forearms, braced himself as best as he could for the coming pain and desperately tried one last time to appeal to T'Challa's mercy. "T'Challa, no, please, don't cane me too hard. Please not too hard."

"I'll do whatever I like to you, and you're going to take it," T'Challa purred, and lashed the cane down hard on Erik's upturned ass. 

Erik howled as the first stroke cut deeply into him, drawing a line of fire across the centre of his spanked cheeks. Hot pain radiated from the centre of the lash, which he knew was already starting to form into an angry, raised welt. T'Challa didn't even pause before he was landing the second stroke just below the first, not even bothering to give Erik time to breathe. 

"Ow! Shit! T'Challa, stop! That fucking hurts!" 

But of course T'Challa didn't listen to Erik's pleas. He caned Erik with cruel, brutal precision, with each stroke just overlapping the edge of the previous one, stroke after stroke covering the entirety of Erik's ass. T'Challa's herb-enhanced senses gave him preternaturally good aim, allowing him to land each subsequent controlled stroke almost exactly below the previous one even as Erik tried to twist away, squirming and writhing after each hard lash.

Erik's loud yelps turned quickly into cries, and then into wails and sobs as the cane rose and fell, cracking relentlessly across his defenseless cheeks. Pain blazed in his ass as T'Challa whipped him mercilessly and methodically. Despite T'Challa's earlier warning, Erik couldn't help but tense up, sobbing and clenching his cheeks each time a stroke landed particularly close to the previous welt. 

"I said don't clench," T'Challa told Erik sternly. 

"I can't help it!" Erik cried. "It fucking hurts!" 

"Maybe this will help you to remember," T'Challa said darkly, and cracked the cane down sharply against the tender, soft skin of Erik's upper thighs. Erik's thighs weren't as well padded as his ass, and the hard stroke seemed to cut directly to the bone. 

"No! Ow! T'Challa, stop! Don't hit me there! I won't clench! Please!" 

But not clenching was even worse. Forcing himself to relax and take the cane on his soft, supple cheeks seemed to make each hard stroke cut five inches deeper. Erik could only tolerate perhaps three or four lashes each time on his sore ass before his control broke and he tensed up again, and T'Challa would immediately, mercilessly strike him across the thighs despite his wails.

Was it better to take the strokes on his already well-spanked ass, or on his sensitive thighs? Erik couldn't decide which option hurt less. His entire ass and upper thighs felt like they were on fire, covered in overlapping raised welts. Erik was sure that T'Challa had turned him into some sort of horribly striped zebra.  It hurt, it hurt so badly, it was too much, T'Challa had to stop right now, _please,_ he was going to die,he couldn't take the pain, this was even worse than that time T'Challa had stabbed him in the heart - 

At that, T'Challa laughed, a short little snort, and Erik realised that he had been begging out loud.

"Had enough yet?" T'Challa asked, his voice light and amused. 

"Yes! No more! Please no more! Please!" Erik cried, all dignity lost. 

There was a pause, followed, _finally,_ by the blessed sound of the cane clattering to the floor.

Erik let out a long exhale of relief and finally allowed himself to let go, burying his head in his forearms and crying as hard as he could. Distantly, he could hear the faint rustle of robes, and he knew without turning back that T'Challa was taking his cock out.

Erik spread his legs wide, and after a moment he felt T'Challa's fingers brush against his ass, dipping towards his hole. Erik cried out, whining in pain even at that light touch, and T'Challa made a soft soothing noise as he spread Erik's cheeks apart. 

Erik was still loose and slick from when they had fucked earlier that morning, and T'Challa's fingers entered him easily with barely any resistance. 

"Do you still want it, love?" T'Challa asked Erik gently. "Does it hurt too much?"

"I've been asking you to fuck me all day!" Erik said indignantly, through his tears. "You better not fucking stop!"

T'Challa laughed again, and then finally, _finally,_  Erik felt the the thick, hot head of T'Challa's cock at the rim of his hole. And then T'Challa was pushing himself in, breaching Erik open. Erik sobbed as T'Challa fucked slowly into him, pain and pleasure mixing as T'Challa forced his cock in with slow, shallow thrusts against Erik's spanked ass, burning him inside and out. 

One of T'Challa's hands came around to fondle Erik's cock, which had gone soft from the pain of the caning. The other hand gripped tightly at the scruff of Erik's neck, pulling him back into T'Challa with each shallow thrust.

T'Challa's pace was maddeningly slow and gentle. Erik knew that T'Challa was only doing it out of concern for him, but it was driving Erik nuts. 

"Harder," Erik moaned, clenching down tightly around T'Challa's cock, causing T'Challa to groan. "Fuck me harder." 

"Are you sure -" 

"Yes!" Erik snapped. "Stop torturing me!"

Erik ground back against T'Challa as hard as he could. The pain of his sore ass meeting T'Challa's groin caused Erik to yelp out loud.

T'Challa stroked the back of Erik's neck with his thumb once, as if in apology, and then he started pounding into Erik hard, forcing gasps of pain out of Erik with each thrust. Erik could only hang on for the ride, letting T'Challa use him as he wished, moaning so loud throughout the fucking that it almost sounded as if he were wailing in pain again. 

With a final hard thrust that made Erik whimper, all hurt and high-pitched, T'Challa came in his ass, filling Erik up for the second time that day with his hot cum. The feeling of T'Challa spilling into him and T'Challa's hand simultaneously jerking at his cock tipped Erik over the edge. Soon he was coming too, spurting weakly into T'Challa's warm hand. 

T'Challa took a moment to gather himself, panting, before he pulled his cock out of Erik. He helped Erik up towards him, enfolding Erik into his embrace. 

Erik sniffled weakly into T'Challa's shoulder, letting his tears fall on T'Challa's robe. He always broke down after being punished by T'Challa, curling into T'Challa for affection and comfort that T'Challa was happy to provide. 

"Am I bleeding?" Erik mumbled.

"Of course not, love. I didn't cane you that hard," T'Challa murmured, stroking his back comfortingly.

At that, Erik couldn't help but make a small indignant whine of complaint - it had fucking hurt, damn it. If it had been T'Challa on the receiving end - 

"Yes, my love, I know it hurts," T'Challa said soothingly, as if he were reading Erik's mind. T'Challa's hands moved lower, rubbing warm circles into Erik's lower back, running his fingers over Erik's scars. 

"Just so you know, I did not tell Okoye anything, earlier," T'Challa continued.

Erik laughed in relief, letting himself relax further into T'Challa's embrace. "Knew you were lying."

"No, you did not," T'Challa said. He continued to pet and stroke Erik, but his hands just avoided touching Erik's sore, punished ass. Erik was pathetically grateful for that. He didn't think that he could take even a light caress right now.

But Erik had let his guard down too soon.

"I'm not through with you yet," T'Challa murmured, soft and silky into Erik's ear. "We're not done with your punishment."

Erik froze, stiffening in fear. "Oh god, no. T'Challa _please_ , don't spank me any more, I can't take any more - "

"That's not what I meant," T'Challa said. He tilted Erik's chin up with one hand, and used his other arm to manhandle Erik around so that he was facing the throne directly. "Go and sit up there. On the throne."

"No!" Erik protested in horror. "I can't! I can't sit down for at least a week!"

"Do you need another lesson on obeying your king, N'Jadaka? So soon?" T'Challa said silkily. "And I thought you wanted the throne."

Erik whimpered. 

_"Now,"_ T'Challa said, an iron note of command in his voice, giving Erik a little push forward.

Erik didn't dare to protest any further. Filled with trepidation, he approached the dais slowly. Even walking hurt. Each step he took caused the crease where his ass met his thigh to scrunch up, igniting a short flare of burning pain that worsened with each step.

Erik paused before the throne, looking down at the hard vibranium seat with dismay. T'Challa expected him to sit on _that_ now? 

If he couldn't appeal to T'Challa's pity, maybe T'Challa would listen to reason instead. "You really want me to get blood and cum all over the throne?" Erik asked T'Challa desperately. 

"I told you, you're not bleeding," T'Challa said patiently. "Now sit." 

"Can I at least get dressed first?" Erik begged. The pants would at least offer a little bit of padding and protection. 

"No," T'Challa said, crossing his arms, voice firm and implacable. _"Now."_

T'Challa was so evil. The most evil motherfucker to ever walk the planet.

Biting his lip, Erik gingerly lowered himself down on the throne, gripping the armrests as tightly as he could.

Fuck! The cold hard surface made each individual welt on his heated ass and thighs burn with renewed fire. Erik gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut tightly in a grimace, feeling tears well up in the corners of his eyes again. 

Footsteps approached the throne, stopping right in front of Erik. Erik didn't open his eyes, but just bowed his head forward, burying his face in the front of T'Challa's robes. 

A hand lightly stroked Erik's cheek, brushing his tears away. "You are doing so well, N'Jadaka," T'Challa murmured, soft and gentle as he patted the back of Erik's head. 

Erik sniffled. Sitting in the same position for too long made the pain rise to unbearable levels, but squirming just made it shift to new, tender spots. It was torture.

"How long more?" he asked T'Challa plaintively, trying to sound as sad and pitiful as possible. It wasn't difficult. Erik was feeling very sorry for himself. 

"You will sit here alone until I am done with my work," T'Challa said. 

Erik's eyes flew open, wide with horror as he looked up at T'Challa. "What? But that could take hours!" 

"Perhaps I could have completed my work earlier if you had not bothered me all day," T'Challa said dryly. "I suppose you will just have to wait."

For the first time that day, Erik actually, seriously considered using his safeword. He couldn't sit here alone, burning with pain, not knowing how long T'Challa would take to return, let him up and cuddle him again. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't. 

Some of Erik's true panic must have shown in his expression, because T'Challa leaned down to kiss Erik gently on the forehead. "It will not take that long, Erik. No more than half an hour, I promise. You can do it. I know you can." 

It was the combination of the gentle encouragement and the way which T'Challa said his preferred name, soft as a caress, that made Erik give in despite the pain. "Fuck. _Fuck!_ Fine. I'll do it," Erik muttered. "I really fucking hate you. You know that?" 

T'Challa pressed a final kiss to his forehead, sweet and gentle. "I love you too, Erik," he said. 

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated!


End file.
